


What would you do?

by notallbees



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Childhood Sweethearts, Flashback to recovery, Flashbacks, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Post-Recovery Bucky Barnes, Sappy Ending, Suicide Attempt, Wedding Fluff, idiot boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-19 17:48:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2397305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notallbees/pseuds/notallbees
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>“What would you do,” Bucky asks, turning to Steve suddenly, “if I asked you to marry me right now?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p>Totally shameless fluff about Steve and Bucky eloping to Niagara Falls. Tooth-rottingly, disgustingly sweet wedding fic disguised as a series of escalating dares.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What would you do?

**Author's Note:**

> Nekare and I were discussing how much we wanted a fic that was just, unapologetically, a fluffy mess about Steve and Bucky eloping post-recovery. This is that mess <3

“What would you do,” Bucky asks, turning to Steve suddenly, “if I asked you to marry me right now?” 

Steve squints at the falling sun, his face and forearms bronzed in sunset shades, then looks over at Bucky. His hands are joined loosely around his knees, and Bucky runs his eyes over the sculpture of Steve’s shoulders. Sometimes, if he looks at Steve from the right angle, if he sneaks up in the right way, he can see the little guy he grew up with. The scrawny little punk is disguised in Steve’s easy movements, but betrayed by his crooked smile. He tries that smile on Bucky now, one eyebrow raised as if he can sniff a punchline coming. “I’d say where and when?”

\--

“What would you do if I asked you to run away with me right now?” Steve asks him a few days later, while they lie panting on a practise mat a few feet apart, only their fingers touching. Bucky rolls onto his side to face him. 

“I’d pack my my bag,” Bucky says solemnly, then he starts laughing. “Hell, I wouldn’t even pack. Where’re we going?”

\--

They’ve been itching to visit Niagara since 1929, when Bucky’s aunt sent him a postcard from the falls after she ran away with a married man. They won’t get to see the same amusements and dance halls, the idea of which had so enchanted them as youngsters, but with Steve’s seemingly limitless bank account, they’ll find something to entertain themselves. 

Before they leave, Steve lets everyone know that he and Bucky will be incommunicado for a few weeks, which makes Bucky raise an eyebrow. “A few _weeks_?” 

Steve grabs Bucky and pulls him in for a fierce kiss. “How many times do _you_ plan on doin’ this? We’re having a honeymoon, Buck.”

Bucky laughs against his mouth. “Where we goin’, sugar?”

“Name it,” Steve says, grinning back at him. 

\--

It’s been just over a year since they found their way back to each other. They both have good days and bad days, and Bucky’s memory is still motheaten, a mixture of things he wishes he could remember and wants desperately to forget. 

One of his worst memories happened three days after moving in together. He had a blackout, lost time. He woke up on the fire escape in the middle of the night, screaming, with Steve shivering in his underwear a few feet away, tears streaming down his face.

“Bucky, please,” he gasped, reaching out with both hands. “Buck, it’s me, it’s Steve, _please_ -”

Bucky looked down to find himself standing on the wrong side of the railing, the street wavering fifty feet below. His right hand gripped the railing; the other held a gun pointed right at Steve’s heart. He let out a distressed moan when he saw it, and his right hand fumbled on the railing. Steve stepped forward, lightning quick, to grab hold of his wrist and keep him from falling. 

Slowly, Bucky curled his left arm around, bringing the mouth of the gun to his temple. 

“Bucky no,” Steve whispered, putting his arms around Bucky’s chest, pulling him in towards him, towards the safety of the building.

“What would you do if I pulled the trigger right now?” Bucky asked, quiet and calm for all he was shaking apart inside. 

“Are you - what do you _think_ , Bucky?” Steve hissed, voice breaking to pieces. “I’d put the next bullet in my mouth, I wouldn’t even think about it.”

Bucky moaned again, the sound scattering into a sob. “ _Steve_ ,” he said, shuddering. “I-”

But he had nothing to say. He didn’t say _I deserve it_ or _I wish I was better_ or _I wish we’d never_ because Steve has heard it all, and rejected every single one.

\--

They crash in a shitty motel just after midnight. Steve wants to keep driving, doesn’t want to waste a second getting there, but Bucky argues that they have at least a week before anyone comes looking for them. They soap up together in the cramped shower cubicle, sliding their slick hands all over until the hot water is all used up. Steve holds back under the cold spray so Bucky can climb out first, none of their usual roughhousing and nonsense, because he knows how much Bucky hates the cold. 

They don’t sleep til almost four, curled in tight, sweaty and dazed. In the morning they get up late and roll across the road to a diner, where they eat enough breakfast for five people. The waiter refills their coffee twice and smiles at them when they hold hands on top of the table. They’re still getting used to showing affection in public, but it’s a little easier around strangers. 

Bucky yawns and leans back in his seat, stretching out his legs under the table. Steve pulls Bucky’s plate towards him, shovels down the last mouthful of his pancake stack. “What would you do if I said I wanna blow you right now?” Bucky asks, pushing his thigh against Steve’s. He straightens up again, leans in towards Steve’s surprised smile. 

Steve doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t look around. He slides forward in his seat and pulls Bucky’s head closer. “You gonna do it and see?” he whispers, and Bucky kisses him through his smile. Steve’s fingers dig into his hair, loosening the messy bun at the back of his neck, and he breaks off the kiss before they get too heavy. “Meet me in the bathroom in two minutes.”

“You dirty punk,” Bucky mutters, opening his eyes with a start. Steve winks at him, and slides out of the booth. He looks back over his shoulder as he crosses the room and grins, butt swaying purely for Bucky’s pleasure. 

Bucky sips his coffee and eats a cold slice of toast, the only thing Steve hasn’t yet hoovered up, before getting up and following him to the bathroom in the back. He leaves enough cash on the table to cover the breakfast and a decent tip. Hopefully it’s enough that nobody will come knocking and chase them out. When he gets to the bathroom, Steve hauls him into the lone cubicle by his jacket and kisses him roughly. He doesn’t push Bucky against the wall, always giving him the option first of whether Bucky wants that or not. This time he does, and he lets his shoulders hit the door as he pulls Steve in close. 

\--

Bucky’s always infuriated when Steve refuses to indulge his Captain America status, even a little bit. He’ll just shake his head and say, “These people have been waiting in line too, Bucky” or “It’s okay, we can go somewhere else” or “Never mind we’ll get married another time”. 

“No,” Bucky says coldly. 

Steve lets out a put-upon sigh. “Bucky-” he says in a warning tone, but Bucky shakes his head sharply. Steve groans and pulls his cap further down to hide his eyes.

“Do you guys realize who this is? This is Steve Rogers, aka Captain America. Are you telling me you don’t want the publicity of _Captain America_ getting married on your boat?” The bookings clerk and the manager both go a little wide-eyed. 

“Bucky,” Steve says sternly. 

“I’m sorry, sir,” the manager begins in a fawning stumble, but Bucky interrupts her. 

“Look,” he says, before catching a desperate look from Steve and trying to sweeten up his tone some. "Uh - ma'am. This man died for his country, then they dug him up and asked him to serve it again, and he said yes. This man is a decorated war hero a hundred times over, and he’s never asked for a goddamn thing. This man-” He hesitates when he glances at Steve. Steve is staring at him with total amazement on his face, the beginnings of a stunned smile, and Bucky has to look away from him quickly or he won’t be able to finish it. “Look, we’ve both waited seventy years to marry our sweetheart. There’s gotta be something you can do.”

Three hours later, they’re out on the water. Their suits have been hastily pressed by the staff at the hotel; Bucky hadn’t even seen Steve pack them before they left, and Bucky produces the flowers he filched from an obliging flower shop. He tucks one in Steve’s buttonhole, and kisses the corner of his jaw softly. Bucky thinks he might be getting the hang of being a bit soft now and then. Steve’s getting good at wearing down his edges. 

“I, uh.” Steve blushes. Seventy years and endless wars and Steve still knows how to make Bucky’s stomach turn somersaults just with a bashful look. “I have something for you. Don’t laugh?”

Steve produces a tarnished silver ring, says he picked it up in an antique shop a few months back. “I figured - maybe you could wear it on your right hand, if you want to. You don’t hafta wear it at all.”

Bucky can’t even bear how much he loves this guy. It makes his guts twist pleasantly to think that Steve had been carrying it around for weeks before Bucky even mentioned getting married. He dips into his own pocket, comes up with a ring of his own. Steve’s smile goes a little watery, and Bucky punches him in the shoulder. “Come on, stupid,” he says, grinning. “I think you’re supposed to cry at the _end_.”

There’s no fuss. When Bucky was through terrifying people into letting them have an impromptu wedding, Steve was there to deliver the instructions: quick, quiet and no fuss. 

“Wham, bam, thank you ma’am,” Bucky said, grinning, to the total surprise of the manager and the bookings clerk. 

Steve had just rolled his eyes fondly. “If that’s supposed to be a test, Bucky, don’t forget I’ve been catching up on the last seventy years a lot longer than you have.”

The service, such as it is, lasts all of ten minutes. They both slide their rings onto each other’s right hands, and this time even Bucky blushes a little bit, when Steve slides his ring on second, then lifts Bucky’s hand to kiss his palm. “You’re stuck with me now, Barnes.”

Bucky snorts. “Like I wasn’t already.” He grabs Steve’s shoulder and slides the other arm around his waist, and before Steve can react, Bucky dips him back and plants one on him.

“Screw it,” Bucky hears the officiant tell them in a harassed voice. “You guys are married. Carry on.”

They kiss, and grin, and kiss some more, and Steve finally puts a stop to it because they’re still in _public_ , Bucky, dammit, and also they have paperwork to sign. As soon as they’re done, Bucky pulls Steve back over to the rail, where they crowd up close to each other and laugh and don’t give a shit when they get soaking wet under the falls. By the time the boat starts heading back to dry land, they’re dripping, and Bucky shakes his wet hair out like a dog.

“What’s the world gonna say?” Steve mutters, staring back at the wall of water. 

Bucky hums thoughtfully. “What would you do if I jumped in this river right now?”

Steve’s laugh jolts out of him, startled and delighted. “I’d let you sink, dummy.”

He just gives Steve a raised eyebrow, then he sets one foot on the railing and he’s over before Steve can say a word. Bucky crashes into the frigid water, holding on tight to the breath in his lungs as he goes under. A moment later, he hears the impact as Steve hits the water a few meters away. It’s dark and murky, and his clothes and shoes are weighing him down, but he doesn’t feel afraid. He reaches out for Steve’s hand.

\--

“You’re never gonna stop trying to give me a heart attack, are you?” Steve gripes at him while he fills the oversize tub in the bathroom. It has a jacuzzi setting. 

Bucky raises an eyebrow and starts ticking off on damp fingers. “Jumping out of a plane without adequate parachute training-”

“That was _different_.”

“Jumping out of a plane _without a parachute_ ,” Bucky growls.

Steve groans. “Natasha.” He makes her name sound like a curse, and Bucky’s lip twists into a smirk as he ticks off another finger.

“Picking fights with everything that moves-”

“Al _right_ , Bucky,” Steve snaps, grabbing for him. Bucky just laughs while Steve wrestles him out of his sodden clothes, neither of them caring when they hear something rip. He’s not gentle or careful, not at all, and Bucky can feel that there’s something else here, something to do with the water. It took him months to be able to take a bath, or stand close to the freezer. He can’t believe that Steve doesn’t know why he jumped. “Get in there,” Steve says in his Captain voice, and gives Bucky’s thigh a sharp, stinging slap with his palm. 

Bucky yelps and clambers into the steaming tub. It’s a little _too_ warm, but he won’t complain. Although it's not because he can’t. Steve’s slowly helped him relearn the habit of speaking up when he doesn’t like something, but this is bearable, and Steve likes it. They hardly ever had a hot bath like this when they were younger, living together and scraping by from week to week. Once a month if they were lucky, if they could afford to spend the time and money heating the water. Pinned together in the slender tub, scrubbing each other’s backs. 

“You comin’ in?” Bucky folds his arm on the edge of the bath and props his chin on his elbow. “Stevie?”

Steve’s face softens and he nods, before stripping off quickly. He kicks their suits into a grimy wet pile in the corner of the floor, and Bucky watches the shift of his movements, still looking for the skinny boy and his beautiful, graceless movements. Steve only knew one way of moving then; elastic and sprawling, puzzling into awkward spaces, trying to take up a decent amount of room, never quite managing. Now he moves in a hundred different ways. Sometimes he’s like a dancer, and it makes Bucky want to laugh knowing that nobody but him ever got to waltz or foxtrot with Steve, and knowing they all missed out. Sometimes he moves like a boxer: the tough front he used to paste on now has enough muscle behind it to give it the threat it always needed. Bucky’s seen people cower from that swagger even when Steve is wearing a dopey grin and laughing at something Bucky’s said. 

“What is it?” Steve mutters, climbing in beside him. His body pushes the water right up so there’s only a couple of inches left to overflowing. 

“Just wondering what’s heavier,” Bucky says thoughtfully, rolling his head over to look at Steve. “You or a baby elephant.” Steve scowls and splashes him. “Or a panzer.”

Bucky cackles with laughter while Steve tries to grab him and tackle him into the water. He kicks, despite Steve trying to hold him down, and water gets _everywhere_ , but neither of them cares at all. Bucky is still laughing, choking through the soapy water, and Steve is biting at his neck now, hands getting fresh under the surface. 

"What would you do-" he gasps, "what would you do-"

Steve laughs and grabs his face so he can kiss him, deep and perfect. "Bucky," he says breathlessly, "I just _married_ you. Just name it, I'll do it. You don't gotta test me anymore."

Bucky kisses him again, because somehow it hasn't sunk in yet that they're _married_ , til death do they part - for real this time. Bucky’s more interested in to have and to hold right now.

"You remember my cousin Julie's wedding?" he asks casually. 

Steve nods, offers a cautious summary of the memory like he always does, never sure how much Bucky is remembering. "You made me dance with that girl I had a crush on," he says, slouching back and letting Bucky settle between his thighs. "Can't remember her name, she never spoke to me again because I tripped and tore her dress." 

Bucky lets out a snort of laughter. "I meant after that, Casanova." 

"Oh," Steve says shyly, sliding his hand across Bucky’s stomach. Bucky likes his voice like that, even if he knows it's an act. Steve has _never_ been that innocent. "You mean when we snuck out back?" 

"And that waiter caught us in the back alley," Bucky murmurs, grinding back against him until Steve's dick hardens up all the way against his spine. 

Steve laughs and puts on a thick Brooklyn slur, "You kids better scram, I wanna smoke in peace." 

"Didn't even care we had our hands in each other's pants." 

"You know he was probably gay, Buck." 

"You ever think maybe he was just a nice guy?" Bucky tuts. "Captain America, I thought you always think the best of people." 

"What's wrong with him being gay?" 

Bucky groans. "Steve you know that ain't what I meant." 

Steve, miraculously, lets the fight soak into the water and hugs Bucky in tighter. "I know." He nuzzles into Bucky’s neck, the start of stubble on his face making it a little rough and sexy, rather than just comforting. "I just - I don't care what you call us, as long as you're proud of who you are." 

"Jeez Louise, can't we get drunk and talk about this?" 

"No," Steve says simply, which he would, obviously. 

Bucky twists in his arms, displacing some more water onto the tiled floor with the sound of a fist meeting flesh. "I'm proud'a you, Stevie," he says firmly, looking up into his eyes. He remembers missing those eyes and not knowing why. He remembers hesitating to kill a boy with blue eyes too big for his face. He takes a deep breath and goes on, "I'm proud of you and I'm proud to know you chose _me_. That's the best I can give you right now." 

Steve pushes their foreheads together. "I'll take it." 

"Good," Bucky says, angling to kiss his jaw. "Now, what're we gonna do with that big old bed in there?" 

"Hopefully not break it," Steve says with an honest to god _giggle_ as he slips his arms around Bucky's waist. 

"Aw." Bucky chucks him under the chin with his index finger. "You ain't still embarrassed after last time?" 

Steve grins sheepishly. "That was a brand new bed, Buck." 

"I still think it musta had a manufacturing fault." 

"Yeah, maybe,” Steve says, although he doesn’t look convinced. "Where'd you get the ring?" 

Bucky looks away from him. "Not telling." 

"Uh huh." Steve bites his lip, and Bucky notices too late the wicked expression settling around his eyes before Steve is digging his fingers into Bucky's ribs. "You gonna tell me yet, Barnes?" 

"Fuck you!" Bucky shouts, struggling not to laugh. "Steve!" 

He tries to wrestle away but Steve gets his thighs around Bucky's waist and holds on, and Bucky gives up when he feels Steve's dick pressing against his belly, hot and urgent even against the heat of the water. 

"Steve, _Steve_ , let up already!" he hisses, forcing himself to go limp. To his relief, Steve finally stops tickling him and lets his hands just pet instead, stroking over Bucky's sides. 

"Hotel gift shop?" Steve snickers. 

Bucky shakes his head. "It was Rebecca's," he says quietly, his mouth close to Steve's right ear. Some long buried instinct always sends him to that side, a pit of knowledge that Steve won't hear him on the left. He's noticed Steve does the same when he's tired or distracted, putting himself on people's left to favor the ghost of his bad ear. "I mean, she had it. It's like a claddagh, belonged to an uncle." He laughs. "I always wanted to give it to you but - well, you know. Plus the jeweller would've had a hell of a job altering it for your skinny hands back then." 

Bucky doesn't say that he thought a hundred times of giving it to Steve anyway. Every time they lay curled together in the cold or the sweltering heat, through fevers and chills, Bucky thought about sitting Steve down and silencing his stubborn mouth for once with the promise of the ring. He doesn't say what held him back; the knowledge that Steve might not have taken it. Probably wouldn't have. And if he _had_ , Bucky didn't ever want Steve to have to choose between keeping the ring for Bucky's sake and pawning it to buy food or medicine, the way he had with his mother's wedding ring. 

He straightens up to get a look at Steve's face, and finds him looking stunned and happy. "I always thought you were saving it to get married," Steve says, faltering. 

Bucky smiles, and for once it comes easy. "I was, dummy." 

\-- 

After they're done screwing in the bath, the water gone cold and tidepools forming on the bathroom floor, they put their pajamas on long enough to order and eat something from the room service menu. 

"I should clean up up in there," Steve says with a guilty look in the direction of the bathroom. 

"No," Bucky says sharply. "Steve, _no._ " He rolls over and on top of Steve and pins him to the bed. "Stay. I'll - fuck, I dunno, I’ll order some extra towels if it bothers you that bad." 

“I guess you could take my mind off it,” Steve murmurs, sliding his hand up under Bucky’s t-shirt. 

Bucky laughs and props himself up on his left arm. “Again? Already?” 

“What’d you expect?” Steve asks, grinning up at him. “You put fuel in the tank, now you gotta take me for a ride.” 

There’s gotta be some kind of smart comeback for that, but if there is, Bucky’s laughing too hard to deliver it. He buries his face in Steve’s armpit while he shakes with mirth, and Steve joins in, a little puzzled but pleased. Bucky laughs for much longer than the joke deserved, until he’s shaking and trying not to cry, and Steve just pulls him closer without a word. They’ve never cried in front of each other so much as they have in the past year. Steve still gets a little embarrassed, still thinking he’s gotta be the tough guy, but Bucky has long stopped caring. At least if he’s crying, it means he’s feeling something, even if he doesn’t always know _what_. Being able to let himself cry and know that the worst that will happen is someone might think he’s a pussy - well, he’s had worse. 

“Not changing your mind are you?” Steve asks a little while later, when Bucky’s done soaking his shirt and he’s combed all the tangles out of Bucky’s damp hair with his fingertips. “Because I’m pretty sure what we did in the bath counts as consummating the union.” 

“Fuck you,” Bucky says, his voice a warm sigh, and Steve laughs at him and lets Bucky drag him into a crushing hug. 

Steve kisses his jaw, then the side of his neck, moves down to his shoulder. “That’s kinda what I’m hinting,” he says in the low, dirty voice he saves just for Bucky. “I gotta say it clearer?” 

Bucky hums contentedly and nods his head. “Yeah, Stevie, think I’m getting hard of hearing in my old age. Why don’t you spell it out for me, nice and slow?” Laughing low, under his breath, Steve rolls Bucky onto his back and keeps on kissing his way down. The one thing that never changed about him on the outside is his mouth. “Love that mouth, Stevie,” he says, reaching up with his right hand and pressing at Steve’s bottom lip. “Talk dirty to me with that mouth, c’mon.” 

“I swear one day,” Steve says, giggling against Bucky’s ribs, “I’ll wake up and there’ll be a video online of all the dumb things you get me to say in bed.” 

“Not a chance,” Bucky says, grinning at the thought. He slides his fingers into Steve’s hair and grabs on tight. “That’s all for me, honey, nobody else gets to hear.” 

Steve huffs, and flattens his tongue over Bucky’s nipple. “Mm, except everyone else in our goddamn building,” he says, not-quite-scolding. “And I know pretty much _everyone_ on the team has heard us going at it more than once.” 

“Not my fault they like to listen,” Bucky says, shrugging. 

“I can assure you, they do not.” 

Bucky chuckles, thinking of Stark’s face the first time he caught them screwing in the kitchen of the common floor at Avengers Tower. Steve had been _mortified_ , but it _had_ been his idea, although Bucky had taken the blame for him. Stark had issued a standing order to have them removed by security if JARVIS caught them having sex anywhere but Steve’s apartment, which they only used once a month if that. Of course, it backfired on him when they were eating takeaway with the team, and JARVIS interrupted everyone to inform them that Steve was jerking Bucky off under the table with his foot. 

“Why are you laughing?” Steve asks in a slightly hurt voice, lifting his head up from the vicinity of Bucky’s navel. Bucky just puts his arm over his eyes and holds his breath, hiding in the crook of his elbow because if he looks at Steve right now, he’s going to lose it. “Oh, fuck, you’re thinking about the foot thing again, aren’t you?" 

“Steve it was so good!” he yells, bursting into fits of laughter. Steve rolls off him with a sigh, sprawling on his back to wait for Bucky to get it together. He’ll have a long wait; Bucky hasn’t _ever_ laughed as much as he has at that, at least not that he can remember. He risks a look at Steve, who’s pretending to be annoyed, but is smiling despite himself. 

“I don’t know why you found that so funny,” he says, a little disapproving. “They still call me Captain Foot Fetish.” 

“Which just - just makes _no sense_ ,” Bucky gasps, clutching at his stomach, his eyes falling closed as he struggles to get himself under control. “Surely - surely that makes _me_ the one with the fetish?” 

“I know, right?” Steve snaps, much too loud. 

It’s obviously still a sore spot, but when he opens his eyes again, Steve doesn’t look mad. He looks like he’s enjoying himself. He looks happy. It sobers him at once, and Bucky reaches out for him. “Hey, c’mere,” he says, trying a wolfish grin, “hubby.” 

Steve groans, but he’s grinning when he falls back into Bucky’s arms. “What would you do,” he asks, reaching up to brush his fingers through Bucky’s hair again, “if I asked you to run away with me?” 

“Didn’t we already do that?” 

“No, I mean-” Steve hesitates, bites his lip. Bucky catches a glimpse of a shy, mouthy little shitstain from 1943 and his heart skips a beat. “I mean for good." 

Bucky narrows his eyes. “You wouldn’t." 

“Bucky-” 

“I know you, Steve. You could never leave that behind, put away the shield, not when people still need you.” He sighs. “And they’re always gonna need you.” 

Steve sighs and his mouth twists into a sad smile. “That’s a no then?" 

“God, you’re such an idiot,” Bucky mutters, grabbing his t-shirt and hauling him in to kiss him hard. Steve’s tongue flickers at his bottom lip, and Bucky opens his mouth with a groan. He slides his hands around to Steve’s back, pushing up under his t-shirt until his hands are on Steve’s shoulder blades. “I’d go anywhere you fuckin’ asked, Steve, you know that.” 

Steve lifts an eyebrow, and his gaze flicks downwards. “Really?” 

Bucky laughs again. “You fuckin’ romantic,” he says, tugging at Steve’s hair again. In truth, he doesn’t mind. He loves it. Loves that Steve can make him laugh again. Loves that Steve can make him _want_ again. “Fine, but we’re in this together now, remember? If I go down, you go down.” 

“Not a problem, Sergeant." 

Stark tried to joke with him once about whether Steve fucked like he was on a mission, and Bucky just stared at him. Or rather, he stared at Stark’s _throat_ , until Steve came over and told him to stop. Steve on a mission was cold, focused and terrifying. Reckless too, but Bucky could cope with a little reckless so long as Steve kept it between the sheets. No, Steve in bed was fucking _wild_ , and also the sweetest, gentlest thing Bucky could remember knowing. He was patient with Bucky, with Bucky’s body, the way he wasn’t in many other shades of his life. Steve had always been a shaken up soda bottle ready to pop, cursed with too much drive and nothing but spit and stubbornness to get him where he wanted to go. Some days Bucky missed the old Steve so much it hurt him to even _look_ at that big, hulking slab of soldier, and he had to force himself to find the things he knew; the dancer’s grace in Steve’s wrists and ankles; the shy, lopsided curl of his mouth when he didn’t want to smile but he couldn’t help himself; the way he could hold Bucky in his giant arms and make sure he’d never hurt anyone. 

“Buck? You with me?” He’s got his hands on Bucky’s face, his eyes soft with worry. 

“Yeah,” Bucky says, grabbing hold of Steve’s wrists to keep him close. “I’m here.” 

Steve leans in and rubs his cheek against Bucky’s. “We can just watch a movie or something, if you want.” 

Bucky shrugs, looks up at Steve with a rueful smile. “Some honeymoon.” 

“Screw the honeymoon,” Steve says fiercely. “We’ve got as long as we want. If that means we spend our wedding night watching shit TV, that’s fine by me.” 

“You really are a born romantic, aintcha, Rogers?” Bucky teases, but he leans up to nudge Steve’s mouth with his own, sucks gently on his bottom lip. Steve groans, kisses him back without pushing. He doesn’t make any smart remarks about Bucky leading him on, even though he can feel Steve’s dick pressing insistently against his hip, because Steve’s a gentleman like that, even with him. 

They break apart after a few minutes, Steve breathing hard and his mouth red and slick, eyes dazed. “I’m, uh - I gotta take a leak,” he says, staggering to his feet, dragging a hand through his messy hair. “You wanna put a movie on?" 

Bucky nods and hides a tiny smile at the sight of Steve subtly trying to adjust himself in his sweatpants as he crosses to the bathroom. He folds back the covers and climbs into the bed, grabbing the remote from the table. He can hear Steve pissing, washing his hands, brushing his teeth, and he loves Steve so much, just listening to him get ready for bed, he doesn’t know how he expects to get through the rest of his life, feeling this much. The door opens again and Steve wanders out, still looking a little dazed. 

“You pick something?” he asks sleepily. 

“Nah, you pick,” Bucky says, moving over in bed to make room. Steve slumps down beside him, kicking off his sweatpants under the sheets, and wriggling in to put his head in Bucky’s lap. It’s really not late enough to justify them being so lazy: it’s not even nine yet, but Bucky figures they’ve earned a break. Plus they didn’t exactly get much sleep on the road. “Steve?” 

“Uh huh?” Steve’s mumbling, already halfway asleep, and Bucky can’t help wondering if he rubbed one out in the bathroom, maybe while he was brushing his teeth. 

“Are we really gonna be together for the rest of our lives?” 

“Well shit, Buck,” Steve says sleepily. “I guess I hadn’t thought about that. I mean, it’s not like we just vowed to be together until we die or anything." 

Bucky groans. “You’re such an _ass_ , why does this stupid century think you’re a nice guy?” 

Steve hums happily and burrows in closer. “The real question is, why does my stupid husband think so?” 

“He doesn’t, he’s just a masochist.” Steve makes a sleepy, noncommittal sound, and Bucky threads his fingers through Steve’s hair. “Did you jerk off in the bathroom?” 

There’s no reply for a little while, then Steve shuffles awkwardly. “If I say yes, are you gonna make fun of me again? For not bein’ romantic enough?" 

“Probably.” 

“Then no, I’d never do such a thing.” 

Bucky snorts with laughter. “That mouth’ll get you in trouble.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you keep makin’ promises.” There’s no real accusation in Steve’s tone at all, he’s just bickering by rote, and Bucky smiles and keeps on stroking his hair. The ring on his finger catches the light, and Bucky rolls his eyes at himself for being a sap, but it makes his stomach flip all the same. 

“Steve?” 

“Mm?" 

“Nothin’. Go to sleep.” 

“Love you, Buck.” 

“Me too, sport.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Liked this? You can reblog it [right here](http://notallbees.tumblr.com/post/100679890415/what-would-you-do-5507-words-by-notallbees#notes)!


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